Dinner With The Flying Spaghetti Monster
by Leydhawk
Summary: The first of the promised oneshots in the Control verse. Kurtbastian daddies being wonderful and fluffy while tackling the difficulties of religion and discrimination.


_A/N I wrote this in present tense, which I normally avoid. Not sure why. So far everything else from this verse matches the original story. Just a warning in case that bothers anyone._

Bas Hummel is an amazing stock broker. He's notorious in his ability on the floor of the NYSE, and he trades tens of thousands of dollars each day, but always ends up making money for his clients overall. He's home every night after the closing bell, eschewing the schmoozing that so many other brokers engage in, preferring to get home and lay down his snide, sometimes vicious armor and relieve his nanny of the kids and start dinner so it's ready when his gorgeous husband gets home.

Kurt Hummel comes home from his office looking like one of the models who walk the runways in his designs. He's often still in the creative mental space he enters when he's alone and traveling to or from work or meetings, but once he gets in the front door, he immediately slips into the bedroom and changes clothes, his mind settling into the loving father and husband he is.

Tonight is no different.

Kurt ducks his head into the closest bedroom on his way back to the living room. Beth is quietly playing with her dolls, as usual. He kneels down and kisses her blonde head, and she smiles up at him before he leaves her in peace. She's as close to a perfect child as Kurt's ever heard of. Even as a baby, she was easy, learning to sleep through the night within weeks of being born, and always happily entertaining herself.

The shrieking from the living room draws him out toward his son. They'd been so spoiled with Beth that it felt sometimes like they were getting a double helping of high-maintenance with BB.

"No!" BB screams his favorite word and Kurt sighs. Bas hears him, somehow, over the fussing of the two year old, and looks up from where he's sprawled on the floor, still in his designer suit, with only his tie loosened and his shoes off, playing cars with their son.

"Blaine Burt Hummel, you will use your inside voice!" Kurt commands with a serious expression.

"Daddy not fair!" The little boy yells, pointing at Bas, his voice only a little softer, his little face red and indignant.

"Bas, are you cheating at race cars?" Kurt asks his husband, who smiles up at him, his eyes alight with mischief.

"Would I do that?"

Kurt and the toddler look at each other and say together, "Yes!"

Bas looks overdramatically hurt, but rolls easily to his feet so he can hug and kiss Kurt hello. Sighing, Kurt squeezes him tightly and closes his eyes, breathing in the comfort and contentment of being with his husband.

"Play, Papa! Play, Daddy!" BB cries, getting up and tugging on their pants.

"It's Papa's turn to play. Daddy's going to finish getting dinner ready," Bas tells his son, and gently disengages from Kurt, who sits down gracefully right where he is. BB claps.

"Pretty, Papa!"

"Can I take the cars to Grandpa's garage?" Kurt asks.

"Gm'pa?" BB asks, swiveling to look over at the laptop on the coffee table. Kurt sighs. They'd been back in Ohio only a few months before, and BB had loved running around the tire shop, but his most recent memories of Burt are from Skype. Kurt wonders if the little boy thinks his grandfather lives inside the laptop. And he hopes that his father's health will keep him around so BB will remember him once he's grown up. The second heart scare three years previous still has Kurt concerned.

"Here's the garage!" Kurt tells his son, moving two throw pillows to make a teepee the cars can drive inside. He points to one car. "What's wrong with this one? Does it need an oil change?"

They discuss the needs of each car for the next twenty minutes while Bas listens from the kitchen. Sometimes he forgets how knowledgeable Kurt is about automotive repair, even though he saw him in dirty coveralls, working on beat up cars and trucks many times when they were home from college in the summers and he'd come pick Kurt up after a shift at Hummel Tires and Lube.

"A timing belt! Oh no! That's _expensive_ ," Kurt exclaims, and Bas grins while BB giggles at his theatrics.

"Daddy?" Beth's soft voice brings Bas around instantly.

"Hey pumpkin. You almost ready for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," she says, and he knows something is wrong from her hangdog expression. He sits down at the kitchen table and pulls her onto his lap. Fleetingly, he wonders how much longer she'll allow such liberties. She's such a miniature adult at seven years old.

"I promise I didn't put onions in your dinner," he reassures. Her sigh lets him know he's not going to to tease it out of her. He turns her to face him. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Mark's sister was watching my skating class, and she said something mean and now I'm worried about you and Papa," she tells him. Tears make her eyes, so like Kurt's, swim.

"People say mean things a lot, Beth."

"I know you told me to ignore them, but you also said don't hold it inside if I need to talk about it."

"Okay," Bas concurs. "Go ahead." He's eternally amazed at how mature Beth can be. And he's proud of how both Kurt and Bas's experience in therapy have enabled them to parent their quiet, introverted first born with the supportive patience and gentle encouragement she needs.

"She said you and Papa are sinners and you're going to go to hell. And that God hates you."

Bas struggles to hold back a sneer. "Did she say why she thought that?"

"She used a bad word about you."

"Do you understand what she meant by the bad word?"

"She made it sound like it's bad that you're two Daddies and no mom."

"Okay. We've talked about that before."

"I know. Love is love and it's never bad. But hate is bad and Uncle Blaine says God is supposed to be love and I don't understand and I don't want you to go to hell and-"

"Shh. It's okay to be confused about God and love and hate. A lot of people who believe in God are confused about it, too."

"Bas?" Kurt says quietly from beneath the arched entryway to the kitchen. He's got BB on his hip, and it's obvious they have just been in the bathroom washing up for dinner from BB's damp face and hands. "Why are you talking about God?"

"Some stupid fu- Um, person told Beth he hates us and we're going to hell."

"Well, The Flying Spaghetti Monster loves us, so it's all okay, right?" Kurt says, his lip curling.

Bas tenses, ready to snap at Kurt about adding more confusion to the already difficult situation, but Beth giggles. " _Papa_. There's no such thing as The Flying Spaghetti Monster _or_ God!" Bas's jaw drops to hear her espousing atheism.

"So why are you worried, then, pumpkin?" Bas asks.

"Because hell sounds like a bad place. Worse than Ohio even."

Kurt grins.

"Yep. She's ours," Bas comments, and Kurt laughs out loud. BB joins in, not understanding any of the conversation but always ready for mirth.

"Beth, the people who believe in God are the ones who believe in hell. Since you don't believe God is real, you don't have to believe in hell either," Kurt explains.

"It's make believe?"

"As much as God is," Bas allows. He respects that Blaine and Eric are good Christians and doesn't like how disparaging Kurt can be about all religion.

"Okay. Can we eat now?"

Kurt and Bas share a look. They've talked about how amazing their kids are, but Beth's easy acceptance is still a marvel to them.

"Yes, sweetie, we can eat."

"Yay!" Squeals BB.


End file.
